Nerja 2004

---

[youtube=3bPfHGJucRw]

Nerja 2004


So this was it, the first time we had set off to go to mainland Spain. We’d been to Majorca before, but never to the mainland, and, of course we were looking forward to it. We had a good flight time from our local airport of 8.15 am and knew that we would be arriving in Spain at about 11.45 (they’re an hour in front of us). It’s funny how a good flight time becomes pretty rough when you add on the check in time and so on. It’s really quite remarkable that to get to Spain on the 8.15 flight, all you have to do is get up at 4.30 am and drive the 30 miles to the airport in time to check in. Ah, the convemience of modern life!

However, having checked in and boarded the plane, we had a smooth flight to Malaga. When we arrived we could see that it had been raining, but the sun was out and we were really looking forward to getting some sun on our backs. We were staying in a little place called Nerja, some 40 miles from the airport and the transport coach was waiting for us. As we were driving along, admiring the scenery, the skies darkened again and it started to rain. We comforted ourselves with the thought that it would at least be warm rain, and settled back to enjoy the ride. The country is spectacular; as you head north the mountains of the Sierra Nevada are on your left and the sea on your right. Everywhere you look there are little white cottages scattered around the hillsides, and the peaks of the mountains just disappear into the clouds. The air is cool and clear and you can see oranges and lemons growing on the trees by the roadside. We arrived at the hotel about an hour later and checked in.

The hotel was what you could call plain and simple. We were on a half board basis, and were hungry as by now it was mid afternoon. Dinner wasn’t served until 8.30pm so we had a snack in the bar. Of course the menu was all in Spanish, and I hadn’t got a clue what I was ordering, but the meal duly came along and I ate a beef burger with relish! We decide to have a look around and strolled out around the town centre. It was obvious something was going on as we wandered. People were arriving dressed in all manner of weird costumes. It was still raining so we had a coffee at a pavement café and just watched the world go by. Quite a crowd was developing by now and they were all dressed in widows weeds, but with a humorous touch. Little girls came past us dressed in mourning black, but with a flash of scarlet or pink. Young ladies in their 20s arrived wearing much the same outfits, but with tight (I mean tight!) dresses, and shortly after some older ladies arrived. I remember thinking, that the little girls looked cute, the older ones sexy and the oldest - well - realistic really. Then it was the men’s turn. Some arrived dressed as women, in the same tight clothing, some dressed as fishermen, and one memorably dressed as the Pope - complete with wheelchair “popemobile” and entourage, armed with glue guns. Generally speaking, it’s safe to say that Marg admired their legs, while I admired their nerve!

We decided to follow the crowd and wound up in the central square of town. It turned out that the event was the ending of the sardine fishing season, and a mock funeral for the “Great Sardine”. As the evening turned into night the music became louder, the dancing more frantic and the costumes more outlandish, until eventually the Great Sardine, a model made from papier mache, was paraded from the stand to the edge of the promenade and laid on a dais. Fireworks were set off and the crowd began wailing in a mock lament. By now it was pouring down we were stood at the front of the audience in light coats and literally freezing, it was raining so hard that the explosion planned for the sardine didn’t go off. One of the guys in charge of the fireworks had to go and relight the fuse. He did so, and then stepped back very smartly. He was only about one pace from it when it exploded, sending bundles of papier-mache all over the prom and him. The crowd laughed heartily, and so did we. Then we retired to the hotel for our evening meal - and bed

This then was our introduction to Spain. Although it seems that, like anywhere else, “The rain in Spain falls mainly on your head” we were set to enjoy ourselves.

Monday:

The next day dawned with a sort of milky sun in the sky. We were in no hurry to get up, but had a leisurely breakfast at around 9.00am, then went exploring the old part of town. It’s funny how the “old” town is always more interesting where ever you go isn’t it? The Spanish have an interesting slant on gutters on their houses - they don’t have any, or at least only on very few buildings. Consequently the rain (for it was raining again) just pours of the roofs and onto the street - and anyone foolish enough to walk on the pavements, like me for instance. The other thing which I kinda liked was that on the few houses with gutters there are no drain pipes to the street, just a small pipe hanging out over the path, which concentrates the water most impressively so that walking becomes something of a task, dodging between a small gentle curtain of water or a narrow forceful torrent! Believe me you only need to make one mistake and your soaked

We strolled about the old town, admiring the buildings and looking down various back alleys. The streets are tiny, but somehow traffic gets down them. They’d have a fit in York City Council, and have speed humps and chicanes up in no time, but we never saw any accidents or even any near misses. Deciding that dinner was a good idea went made our way down to Burrani beach to choose from the restaurants there. These restaurants are all on the sand and specialise in seafood. I’m not too keen on this, but when in Rome… We had the local paella, which I thought was quite brave of us. After crunching our way through mussel shells and rubbery unidentifiable seafood we decided that this probably wasn’t for us. I did manage to force most of mine down (greed?), but Marg left most of hers. However washing it down with a good wholesome red wine helped matters tremendously. We paid the bill and started to make our way back into town. We found another little restaurant and had a pudding there. We were sat on a little terrace half way up a cliff, overlooking the sea eating fresh strawberries and cream, in the sunshine, now can you think of anything nicer? But Marg decided that it was time to look at the shops little realising that the siesta time was here. Now this is one thing I really liked about Spain. By the time you’ve got up had, a lazy breakfast, mooched around and had a leisurely lunch, the shops are closing. I always think that’s the best time to go shopping. They’re closed, you can see lots of things that your wife would love to buy, but can’t. And this is the best bit - you can’t remember where you saw what when the shops re open in the early evening! Now that’s my kind of shopping!

As I said the hotel was quite small, but comfortable enough. One of the limitations though was that the evening meal had to be taken in two sittings. We were on the second sitting so we spent some time in the bar researching the best local wines and so on. The local wines are a rich ruby red, sweet and soft. Actually they are more like dangerous Ribena. You drink them quite merrily, at peace with the world, then try to stand up. It’s an extremely interesting experience, trying to make your way to the restaurant when someone keeps moving the floor beneath you! We had our meals and then went back to the bar, as there was an act on. It was only a girl singer who sang to backing tracks, but she was very good and certainly could put over a song. She sang everything from “Unforgettable” to Tamla Motown, and was really very, very polished. She certainly got Marg up and dancing a storm! The show finished at midnight and we retired, a little tired - and in my case quite refreshed!

Tuesday:

We awoke the following morning with a bit of a headache, actually I blamed the paella, but no one believed me. The sun was shining again, but it was quite chilly. I braved the weather in a T-shirt, but, truth to tell, was quite cold. It was market day so we decided to have a look. We ambled into town again and were presented with a huge market. Now I love markets in different countries. The strange fruit and vegetables, the calling out from the stalls and the haggling all combine to make it one of the best places to just watch and listen. The language barrier proved to be almost non-existent, until we started to haggle over prices, then suddenly no one could understand us at all! But I managed to buy a pair of binoculars for a little less than 20 euros (about £14.00) and was well pleased with them. They aren’t all that powerful, but they are small and light and just the thing for holiday use. We continued just looking round and Marg saw a leather backpack which she tried to buy. We haggled, but the guy was having none of it. We walked away, thinking he would call us back to do a deal, but he didn’t. I guess that was one to put down to experience. I also saw a cord jacket that I instantly liked. This doesn’t happen very often. Like most men I don’t like new clothes too much, preferring the “well worn” variety, but this just tickled my fancy. I bought it. It cost a little under £20 and would easily have cost three times as much in England. I put it on straight away and have rarely had it off since. That sort of filled the morning and, as the clouds were building up over the mountains again and more rain was threatening, we decided to go to Las Cuevas de Nerja.

The caves of Nerja were only re discovered in 1959, by a group of young lads. It seems that for centuries the entrance had been used as a rubbish dump and by some fluke they had been playing hide and seek and found their way into the caves. Now, of course they have been developed and are the number two tourist attraction in Spain, the number one being the Alhambra Palace, more of which later. They are vast. You walk down a small stairway and enter the caves thinking that you have been “taken”, but as you walk along a little further the whole cave opens before you. Obviously it was fairly dark. I did take some photos but they didn’t come out too well and they don’t show anything of scale of the place. The roof is out of sight, but we were told that it is at least 100 feet above our heads. The place is very softly lit, really just enough to keep people safe and highlight the very best stalactite and mites. They are wonderful and mind-boggling when you think how old they are. The biggest (known) stalagmite in the world is on show and it is huge. About 6 feet across and God knows how many feet high, it stands in the centre of the cave like a huge monument. I remember trying to imagine how old these things are, and to put it in perspective I compared them to the Pyramids. Now they were ancient monuments when Christ walked on the Earth, but the are as nothing compared to the age of some of these things. The largest ones are millions of years in the making; I found the place quite spellbinding. In the closed off section there are wall paintings that date from the most primitive of early man, but these are not available to view to keep them safe. There are plans to make replicas in the public area and I would love to see them when they are made. All in all I think you could say that I was totally blown away by the caves.

We returned to the hotel and the bar. I was determined not to make the same mistake again but… well we made friends with another English couple and had a few drinks together, before having our evening meal together, then going to the local Irish bar together. There’s always an Irish bar isn’t there? This one was great, Irish music and so on, and the Guinness went down a treat. I retired once more to the revolving bed!

Wednesday:

Today we were going on an excursion to see the Alhambra palace at Granada. I didn’t really know what to expect, but other friends had told us not to miss this at any price, so I knew it must be worth seeing. Granada is quite a large city, set high up in the mountains on a plateau. The journey up there was both interesting and awe inspiring. The coach took us through the gorge, which as the name implies is just a narrow valley rising up to the plateau. The are some heart stopping views, and driving along in warm sunshine between snow-covered mountains is something I will never forget. It’s a hard climb to the city, but we arrived some two hours later. We had a short break in the city centre, which was quite interesting, but really just another city, before setting out for the Alhambra. Another steep climb took us to the entrance and the coach park. We were introduced to our guide for the day, a young, handsome Spanish lad called Eduardo. Marg and most of the female members of the group promptly fell in love with Eduardo, and spent quite some time deciding how they would share him out! It’s funny how the young Spanish or Italian male seems to be effortlessly elegant and makes all us Anglo Saxon types look scruffy in the extreme. Eduardo was a very talented young man who spoke English flawlessly, along with Italian and German. He also had a wonderful sense of humour and several times had the group falling about laughing, but he knew his stuff about the Alhambra. I am trying to remember some of his stories, but most escape me. One though did stick. As we were walking around the gardens he showed us a very old tree. The bark was worn smooth where people had touched it. The story behind it goes like this:

In the 15th century sometime the chief of the family in power was in the garden just looking at the plants when he saw a sudden movement across the other side of the garden behind the tree. A man wearing a familiar coat of arms ran from behind the tree and into the palace. The chief saw his wife, also behind the tree and put two and two together. He asked her for the name of her suitor but she refused to tell him. Knowing the coat of arms the man had been wearing, the chief invited all of the family to a large dinner the following day. As the meal finished he invited every man from the family into his private room to discuss some problem or other, one at a time. As each man entered he asked the same question “Have you ever heard of a man losing his head over a woman?” As each man denied it he said well “You have now - and today’s the day” and chopped off their heads with his scimitar. It may not be justice, but he got the right man eventually. But since that day it is said that if you touch the tree you will find a new partner. I did, but it hasn’t worked yet - nor has it worked for Marg!

One of the other things that Eduardo told us was that the Emir had four wives. He worked on the theory that “One was not enough, two would fight, three would find that two ganged up on the other, but four was just right”, he also had about 40 concubines, which was quite modest for the day. Personally, I think he got it about right - but the thought of four mothers in law and forty-four credit cards makes me blanch a little…

Joking aside the palace is wonderful. Like all Moslem houses, temples and so on, the grandeur is on the inside. I didn’t know this but it is thought to be in bad taste to show worldly wealth to the outside, so the exterior is quite plain. But the interiors were lavish in the extreme. Beautiful Persian carpets were everywhere, and the tiles have to be seen to be believed. The craftsmanship is just wonderful. Each tile was individually made and cut using the tools of the day and then coloured using the finest colours and glazes. Most of the colour has gone now, worn away over the centuries, but some of the blues remain and it gives a little insight as to how it must have looked. To say I enjoyed the day would be something of an understatement.

The journey back went very quickly and we found ourselves back in the bar in no time. We had our evening meal then went out to a bar we had seen earlier, the Sinatra Bar. Here we spent the rest of the evening listening to someone murdering Sinatra songs

Thursday:

Today we decided to go on the local bus to a little village called Frigiliana. It’s not far from Nerja, only about a 20-minute ride, but a nice little place. Frigiliana clings to the mountainside. It’s incredibly steep and picturesque. I took several photos of the place (which you’ll receive ASAP), but for now you’ll have to make do with just words.

I don’t know the population, but it’s probably only in the hundreds, however Frigiliana has it’s own market and we arrived on market day. How some of the stallholders get up there is beyond me, in places the streets are so steep that they have to have steps in the pavement. The views are superb and there are so many little alleys and passages that we got ourselves lost several times. But the charm of the place is the sense of peace. In the central square we sat drinking coffee at a little pavement bar. It’s about the only flat area in town and right opposite the church. There was some building work going on and we wondered how the materials were moved. We were soon to see. An ass was brought into the square and hitched to a trailer. The trailer was loaded with builder’s rubble and so on, then the poor animal was whipped in to action. Don’t get me wrong, it’s the only way to get the stuff up there, but when the guy in charge of the ass jumped onto the trailer too I thought it was a bit much. The poor animal was soaked in sweat, and obviously in some distress, but that didn’t make any difference at all. It was one of the things that made me think that I wouldn’t like to live there really. We caught the bus back to town and had our own siesta.

Friday:

Today we were booked on another excursion, this time to Gibraltar. We had an early start as it’s quite a long way, but as daylight dawned we could see it was going to be a lovely day. We drove along the coast with splendid views out to sea. About 3 hours later we arrived at Algerciras. Now Gibraltar is a British Territory, and has been a running sore between the two countries for as long as I can remember. There are no signs for Gibraltar in Spain at all, only to Algerciras. The Spanish seem to try to make it as hard as possible to visit, and we had to produce passports and so on at the entry. You need to remember that Gib is actually attached to Spain by a narrow neck of land as it juts out into the Mediterranean Sea. Gibraltar is the only place in the world where the main road actually crosses the runway of the airport. That makes for interesting arrivals - from land or air! There is so much to tell about Gibraltar, that I could easily write as much again. There are more tunnels through the rock than roads on it. Obviously it is of enormous strategic importance as Africa is only 12 miles away and this is the only passage into the Mediterranean, but I’m going to confine myself to our day there.

We arrived in the late morning, and we whizzed straight onto the tour bus of the rock. These are only small vehicles, I think ours seated about 12 or 14 people, but they are as large as could be safely driven on these roads. We set of on the tour with the driver pointing out various places of interest along the way. One of the things I didn’t know is that Nelson - yes that one - was brought here after his death at the Battle of Trafalgar, which is just along the coast. There was a problem in getting his body back to London for his state funeral. This was nicely solved, by placing it in a barrel of rum. The alcohol preserved the body and all went well with the funeral. During WW11 the whole place was hotbed of spies, and the guide told us several stories which seemed a little far fetched to me. As we drove upwards out of the town and onto the heights there were some dizzying views to the harbour and across the straights to Morocco. I had a moment of very real fear though, at one point. The driver had to get out and get a ticket to go into the nature reserve. He stopped the bus on a very VERY steep hill, and nonchalantly left it ticking over while he walked to the office to get the ticket. I was only too aware of the 400 foot sheer drop only 50 yards behind us and the fact that I couldn’t get out at all. As you may be aware one of the main attractions of the rock are the Gibraltar apes. These are wild, but well used to people and born thieves. You really have to watch your possessions as they’ll steal anything. While we were watching one bounced up to a guy who was eating a biscuit, stole it and had it swallowed in a flash. Not content with that the ape then went tugging at his bag until it opened, then took the rest of the biscuits too! I must admit we were just about wetting ourselves laughing, but it could just as easily have been his passport that was stolen. There are several accounts of people having really valuable things nicked by these (admittedly cute) thieves.

Several mysteries surround these animals. The nearest land that they live in is Morroco which is twelve miles away across the straights. The animals are relatively new and certainly couldn’t have come across on any land bridge, as the Med broke through from the Atlantic millions of years ago, before the species was around. It is thought that they were brought across by arab traders, as pets and escaped. The lifespan of the Barbary ape is about 17 to 23 years, yet no dead ones have ever been found. What happens to them is open to conjecture, but the most common theory is that they are cannibals. I certainly can’t think of any other explanation, after all the rock is only about 1 sq mile in area, how can the body of an animal with such a lifespan not have been found - ever?

Gradually we made our way back into the town. One of the other things that Gib is famous for is that it is a “Free port”, that is visitors can buy goods without paying tax. Needless to say we went shopping! Marg bought some beautiful tablecloths (yawn), but I was in my element when it came to the cameras. I succumbed and bought a super new camera. It’s a Minolta (from Gibraltar) and it is the business. It has a zoom lens and is a 5m pixel job. Unfortunately it came to late to take many of the shots of the holiday, but I’m pretty sure you’ll see the difference when you see some that it takes. I’m really delighted with it the pictures are sharp and clear and beautifully colour balanced AND I got it much MUCH cheaper than I could at home. Again it was a pretty good day.

Later when we got back to the hotel we joined our new friends for a drink or two. Pat and I were on the G&Ts Marg on the Tia Maria, and Dave on the local beer. Three of us woke the following morning with a touch of flu…

Saturday:

Our last full day, and to be honest we were a bit tired. We decided to just mooch around town and for the day. We had made arrangements with Dave and Pat to have our last meal in a restaurant overlooking the sea. Of course it was dark so there were no views into the sunset, but nevertheless we had a super meal and a good laugh. We found this couple to be so like ourselves it was as though our lives had run parallel. They married in the same year as us, had two children boy and girl, like us, similar interests and a very similar sense of humour. Holiday friendships are funny things though, and I don’t really expect to hear from them again, except for maybe a Christmas card or something. But they made our holiday. We never stopped laughing the four of us, both at eachother and other people. They were really good company.

Sunday :

Well, it was over - at least for a while. We boarded the bus and went to the airport. There was a short delay on our flight, but nothing too serious and soon we were airborn and heading north. We landed at Leeds about teatime, just in time to see the last of the snow. Apparently it had been snowing quite hard while we were away. Ahhhhh Sometimes life is good!

---

Photos

The "Popemobile" complete with entrourage
The guys with black suits and glue guns. They were really funny

A view over the town
On this day the weather wasn't very inspiring, but it was pleasantly warm

The Alhambra
The fountains and pool

The Alhambra
The craftsmanship is incredible

The Alhambra
The pillars around the central square

Gibralta
The shape of the rock is inmistakeable

Gibralta
On the horizon you can just make out the mountains of Africa

One of the apes...
...and an unintentional shadow of the ace photographer!

Gibralta
The view from high on the rock

Nerja
Flowers in February - wonderful

The view from our room
It's nice to see snow in the moutains, but enjoy warmth in the town

The "Balcony of Europe
Where we had the last meal of our holiday with Dave and Pat

Nerja
Just another little street. The whole town is criss corssed with these and they are really charming